


Birds of a Feather

by Sunfreckle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, I don't know whether this is modern or canon era, Schrödingers Era, Setting says canon language says modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: Feuilly’s workshop is a nice place to be. It feels like craft and creativity, like good things being made well. Enjolras likes the smell of wood and glue and paint. He genuinely enjoys being there and that’s a good thing, because visiting the workshop is often the only way to actually spend time with Feuilly.
Relationships: Enjolras & Feuilly (Les Misérables)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> This never made it off tumblr, because it doesn't fit any of my collections, but I like it and I want to save it.

Feuilly’s workshop is a nice place to be. It feels like craft and creativity, like good things being made well. Enjolras likes the smell of wood and glue and paint. He genuinely enjoys being there and that’s a good thing, because visiting the workshop is often the only way to actually spend time with Feuilly.

At first Enjolras was afraid of disturbing him, but his friend had made it very clear that he really liked the company. And Feuilly is more than capable of listening and talking to Enjolras while he works. Even when the work does require too much concentration for conversation, Enjolras is very happy to just watch him work. Watching Feuilly work is a pleasure, it never fails to impress him.

Today Feuilly doesn’t seem to have his usual enjoyment in his work, however. He goes back and forth between the large piece of paper bearing his design and the fan he is working on. His pencil in hand and frowning deeper and deeper every time.

“Everything alright?” Enjolras asks eventually.

Feuilly blows out a noisy, frustrated breath. “_Birds_.”

Enjolras blinks. “I’m sorry?” he says uncertainly.

“Birds,” Feuilly grimaces. “I can’t do birds.” He smiles desperately at Enjolras and pushes the paper towards him. “They already looked like lopsided chickens here and the sketch on the fan is turning out even worse.”

Enjolras glances at the paper. “Are they partridges?” he asks, frowning slightly.

Feuilly lets out a harassed laugh. “I was trying for doves.”

Enjolras bites his lip.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Feuilly says, groaning slightly. “I know they’re terrible.”

“I wasn’t going to laugh,” Enjolras protests. He’s not going to lie and say they’re good either though. “Why are they even here if you don’t like them?” he asks. It’s a shame, because the rest of the design is so pretty.

“The client asked for birds to be included somehow,” Feuilly says. “I’ve already given them the least prominent place I could think of.”

Enjolras studies the design of flowers, fruit and branches. “What would you have done along the edge if there weren’t any birds necessary?” he asks.

“Clouds,” Feuilly says immediately. “With pink and nearly gold edges like the sun has just risen.”

Enjolras smiles. “That sounds gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Feuilly mutters unhappily. “What about the stupid birds though?”

“They could be in the tree in the middle,” Enjolras says. That’s where he would put them. Dotted around the branches, like a group of friends.

“I would _definitely_ ruin my tree if I tried that,” Feuilly frowns.

Enjolras hesitates, but Feuilly looks _unhappy_. He can’t have that. “I can try if you like?” he offers.

Feuilly looks up at him in astonishment and Enjolras feels a blush creeping up from his neck. He fights it down. “I used to be pretty okay at birds.”

“You draw?” Feuilly asks and he sounds, well, _very_ surprised, but also kind of delighted.

“Used to,” Enjolras shrugs. “A little.”

Feuilly gives him an odd, fascinated look and pushed the paper and pencil towards him. “Go ahead,” he says. “Please.”

Enjolras ducks his head down and takes up the pencil. He always tried to avoid people watching him while he draws. It makes him nervous. But Feuilly only watches him for a second, he turns his attention back to his fan almost immediately. Enjolras can tell that he’s not actually _doing_ anything, but he appreciates the pretence of employment. He looks at Feuilly’s expertly sketched tree and ponders.

Birds…

Enjolras doesn’t take the time to really draw anymore, but it’s not something he can actually stop doing. The margins of his case notes are still full of doodles. No one sees those, of course, and his typed up versions are flawless.

When he begins sketching shapes, it’s mostly from muscle memory. He’s not imagining any particular bird, just…general birdness. And they look good. Happy to be holding court in the branches Feuilly set down so prettily.

“Something like this?” Enjolras says and he looks up to see Feuilly already looking at him. Or staring actually, with an incredulous smile on his face.

“You used to draw, a _little_,” he repeats, pulling the paper towards him. “Enj, you’re really good.”

Enjolras makes a protesting sound. He knows he can draw. He also knows he’s not really good. He knows enough about drawing to be very certain of that. “Come on, Fee,” he says, huffing slightly. “I drew you a few birds.”

“Yes you did,” Feuilly says, studying the design delightedly. He looks up. “Will you copy it onto the fan for me?”

“_What?_” Enjolras splutters.

“If you do the sketch I can paint it,” Feuilly says. “But I can’t replicate that.” He taps on the paper. “Not properly anyway.”

Enjolras glances at the fan. Feuilly’s fans are works of art. Strong but so delicate. He never touches an unfinished one even to look at it. Feuilly puts so much work into them, Enjolras can’t deal with the thought of spoiling one of them.

“It’s either that or lopsided chickens,” Feuilly says.

Enjolras grimaces. “No,” he says. “You have to do the clouds.”

“I will, if you do the birds,” Feuilly urges.

“Fine,” Enjolras groans. “Do you have some paper for me to practice on? I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Of course,” Feuilly says and he fetches a leftover scrap of the handmade vat paper from the workbench behind him.

The feel of the textured paper is different, the pencil doesn’t quite move in the same way. But it’s not too different. And this is just a sketch, Enjolras reminds himself, Feuilly will be painting over it.

“You’re putting a lot of work into this,” Feuilly says smilingly when Enjolras finally allow shim to place the fan in front of him. “What are your commission rates?”

“Ha ha,” Enjolras hums, carefully sketching the shape of the first bird and Feuilly laughs softly.

“Tell you what,” he says. “This is an expensive piece. When the client pays, I’ll take you out for dinner.”

Enjolras doesn’t dare lift up his eyes without lifting his pencil also. So he does both, meeting Feuilly’s eyes for just a moment.

“I might hold you to that,” he warns, smiling involuntarily at the amusement in Feuilly’s eyes.

“Good,” Feuilly says fondly and Enjolras goes back to his sketch with the smile still on his face.

The birds turn out very happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
